


Dear Dan,

by archangelgaybriel, kazimpala



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Anxiety, Drinking, Fluff, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Phan - Freeform, Phandom Big Bang, Phandom Big Bang 2014, Pining, Self Confidence, Self-Acceptance, Self-Hatred, Writer!Phil, pianist!Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2489186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelgaybriel/pseuds/archangelgaybriel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazimpala/pseuds/kazimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Lester is a writer-slash-barista who works ridiculous hours in a small coffee shop just around the corner. Dan Howell is an aspiring pianist with a keen interest - it’s not a crush - on a certain cute barista working at a coffee shop just around the corner, who also turns out to be the hottest one-night stand that he never intends to see again except in his fantasies.</p><p>But then again Fate is cruel and the million dollar question is whether love can transcend Dan’s past into something much bigger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thanks-a-Latte for the hot barista

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up: there’s a slight mention of kickthestickz somewhere in there. Also, Ruby and Gabe are characters from Supernatural. I just used them because we needed people and they are interesting characters. The fic has somewhat deviated from our original plan and it’s much shorter than I anticipated so some of the aspects of the summary may not be fully expressed or touched on, but unfortunately we have life to attend to, but anyways, enjoy!

Dan found himself in much needed solitude - sprawled out upon his bed lacking of a blanket in the middle of the afternoon, staring at the cold, unfamiliar ceiling.

His room was unmade - the walls were bare and the floor was covered with heaps of brown boxes. His friend, PJ, had offered to help him unload his valuables but Dan rejected his offer. After all, he did want to have some time to himself to just relax.

At this point in time now in Manchester, Dan would usually be sitting at home with his headphones on with Muse blasting into his eardrums. But no, instead he was very much alone in his new London apartment - and quoting directly from his mother - “pursuing a _wonderful_ opportunity”.

Dan didn’t find staying alone in a (frankly) too big apartment that much of a “wonderful opportunity”.

He need time away from his hometown - from Manchester, just for a little while, to rejuvenate his mind and refresh himself in a new environment.

Dan rolled around and fumbled for his backpack. Sliding his hand in, he quickly made out the soft edges of his stack of scores - adorned with messy scribbles and caffeine-fueled ideas - and added a handful of notes to his piece in the making. He drummed his fingers and grinned, feeling a sense of accomplishment. It fell in with his piece perfectly.

He shut his eyes and let his neck fall back onto the bare mattress. Maybe he could dig London.

Maybe.

 

By the time he finished unloading his valuables, it was nearing midnight and Dan definitely did _not_ want to stay a minute longer in this bare and cold apartment - every single sound he made echoed back and it drove him _crazy_. He shrugged into the nearest coat in his reach, grabbed the house keys and phone and walked out of the door.

The breeze of the night was cool as it brushed his skin. He pushed his hands into his pockets, pressing against it for warmth. With his head held down, he trudged on the sidewalk, humming his piece under his breath.

He mindlessly strode along the sidewalk and somehow found himself standing outside a small coffee shop. It had clear glass instead of walls and entrance and a sign printed above the glass door reading “Thanks-a-Latte”. He smirked at the pun. It seemed pretty decent enough, so he pushed the door open.

The little bells hung on the door jingled and instantly he was greeted by a strong waft of cookies and chocolate and it smelt _heavenly_. Excluding the scarce number of hunched people with heavy-set eyelids tapping away on their laptop or phones, the shop was pretty much empty.

Dan walked up to the counter, gaze fixated on the menu board above. A man was at the cashier, wiping the counters down with a old rag and immediately straightened when Dan approached.

“Hi, may I get a- uh,” Dan stutters and nearly tripped over his feet when his eyes land on the barista.

The man behind the counter had the brightest set of light blue eyes. His jet black hair was carelessly swept to the side in a messy fringe and with pink lips curled up into a small smile.

Holy shit. He was _hot_.

 _Breathe_. Dan returned a shaky, uncertain smile. His tongue darts out to wet his suddenly-dry lips and he averts his gaze back to the blackboard.

“May I get a caramel macchiato please? Grande, and uh, take-away.”

The man punched a few buttons into the cashier before looking back up at Dan with his stupid gorgeous blue eyes and freaking stupid cute grin. “Anything else?”

 _Yes, your number_. Dan mentally slaps himself before his mind could wander off again. He casted a sideway glance to the tantalizing display of cookies and muffins on his right.

And that’s when his stomach decides to growl.

Dan couldn’t decide whether his face or the vase of artificially bright red flowers on the counter was redder.

The guy let out a chuckle and immediately slapped his hand against his mouth. Dan barely catches the endearing sight of his tongue caught between his teeth.

“I’m sorry… god, that was mean. I’m really sorry! You can have something free off the menu. Anything you want, it’s on me. I’m sorry. Uh, the muffin’s nice I guess. I mean, the vanilla one. Wait there’s _two_ vanilla kinds. Oh god I don’t know. I’ve never eaten the food here. This is so stupid. Where’s Ruby? I’ll ask he-”

 

The man was mumbling to himself and Dan tries not to find it adorable, but he does anyway and couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “Hey hey hey, it’s fine really, I’m just hungry. Could I have the vanilla sprinkle muffin please?”

The guy slides the muffin onto a white plate with a plastic fork at its side and a few wads of tissue. He then shuffled to the back door and yelled at someone named Ruby - probably his coworker - to stop being lazy and then re-enters the room to fix up Dan’s drink. Dan stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot while watching the man as he whizzes around the kitchen scooping up ingredients.

Dan tries not to stare at his ass.

Which he, of course, fails.

Someone - presumably Ruby - emerged from the kitchen, wearing a sloppy uniform. Her gaze landed on the flustered boy standing in front of the cashier and she smirks and throws him a wink.

Heat creeps up his neck and Dan suddenly finds his feet fascinating.

The man comes back, with Dan’s drink in tow and lightly whacks her arm. “Stop flirting with the customers, Ruby, you’re going to chase them away.” He presses on a plastic lid firmly and without looking up, said, “May I know what’s your name?”

Dan found himself staring at the man weirdly. Was he trying to hit on him or…? The woman - Ruby - furrows her eyebrows at the guy and hisses, “Phil, you know don’t need to call out his name, right? He’s right here.”

The man’s - Phil (that’s a pretty nice name) - eyes goes wide and he starts the nervous stutter again.

“I-I mean I…” and Ruby starts smirking again and Dan can’t help but start laughing. Phil glares at Ruby and huffs indignantly before stomping off into the kitchen, leaving a bewildered Dan and a snickering Ruby.

“We… I didn’t offend him, did I?” Dan asked nervously, clenching and unclenching his fists in his pockets as Ruby started packing Dan’s order into a paper bag. She pops her gum rather obnoxiously and shakes her head cheerily. “Nah, he’s just going to the back to pack up and leave since his shift is technically over.”

The relief that washes over Dan is palpable and he finds his shoulders considerably less tense. “Uh, okay. Good.”

“That’ll be two forty please, since your boyfriend’s buying the muffin for you.”

Dan was in the midst of taking out his cash and upon hearing the word “boyfriend”, he choked and nearly dropped the money in his hands. Nearly.

“He’s… he’s _not_ my _boyfriend_!” Dan squawked, catching himself before his mini freak-out could prolong. He dropped his head, trying to hide his cheeks which were growing pink at an alarming rate. Ruby gave that stupid smirk again and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“You know, you can always ask me for his number when you’ve made up your mind,” she whispered, and gave him another flirtatious wink. Dan’s blush deepened, if that was wholly possible, and hurriedly shoved the change back in his wallet, picked his order up, and in big strides, hasted out of the shop.

Behind him, Ruby laughs.

 

When all the customers have slowly milled out and closing hours neared, Ruby walked to the back of the kitchen where a small lounge area was, complete with a small coffee table, a sofa and an ill-placed bookshelf. There, lazing on the couch, was Phil, curled up comfortably and scribbling frantically on his notebook.

“New idea?” she asked, and was greeted by a frown and a frustrated huff.

“Well, I had an idea, but it doesn’t work. Ah, never mind.” Phil answered, slamming his notebook shut and taking off his glasses to rub at his face.

They stayed quiet for a moment, just the ticking of the clock above them breaking the silence, before Ruby piped up again, “Why didn’t you go say bye to lover boy?”

Phil groaned. “Ugh Ruby, he’s definitely not my lover boy. I’ve literally only met him for 15 minutes!”

“And that’s longer than you’ve ever been with a customer.” She shot.

Well, she had a point.

“There was no one else so I took my time.” Phil bit back.

“Come on Phil! Don’t be such a debbie downer. I’ve offered to give him your number.”

“You what!” Phil cried, narrowing his eyes, then sighing and running his hand across his mouth and jawbone. “You’re ruining my romantic life.”

“I’m just living vicariously through it. You know how Gabe keeps tabs on me. He chases away all my boyfriends.”

“What if he doesn’t like me like that?”

“Please,” Ruby snorts, as if the mere thought of it was impossible. “I saw him check you out a couple of times. And besides, if lover boy doesn’t work, you’ll always have those dudes at the bars I know you go to.”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t try to lie to me, Philip Michael Lester. Living vicariously through your love life, remember?”

“Shut up Ruby.”

“Love ya too, Phil.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, it'd be great to leave comments! constructive criticism or just your opinion on the fic, it's all greatly appreciated! :)


	2. The Adventures of Dan and his askew heterosexuality

Dan wakes up the next morning with eyebags, a mild headache, and queasiness. Last night was a bit of a blur. He came home with the image of a certain blue-eyed barista with a cute smile and crinkled eyes and a caramel macchiato in hand.

Then he shuffled into the kitchen, struck by a sudden sense of loneliness and despair and a ‘ _what the fuck am I doing with my life_ ’ crisis.

It wasn’t very nice.

At some point of time he must have dug up a bottle of wine - courtesy of PJ - and inhaled the whole bottle to forget his worries. Or at least tried to.

To put it simply, it didn’t work.

Even in his alcohol-induced state, he remembered cracked bottles, shattered glasses, shouting, disappointment.

_Disappointment._

He was stupid and foolish and young. To think that his passion combined with a silly diploma, could churn out anything but failure. He was stupid for even trying. He was stupid for not listening to others.

On top of it all, he was foolish for thinking that someone like Phil - gorgeous, stable, and probably already taken - could ever express some form of interest to someone like him. It was just impossible, and frankly, ridiculous.

He should’ve stayed in Manchester, listened to his mother, and continued his boring but much more promising law degree.

There was something else too, a worse memory, swirling at the edges of his memory. His head throbs as he remembers the feel of the blow landing on his head-

He shakes his head and walks out to the balcony to clear his mind.

Not _that_ memory, just _not that one_.

He passed out on the couch in the midst of wallowing in doubt and worry and a lot of alcohol swirling around in his gut.

Dan wakes up in the morning with a pounding head and hair that could rival a hobbit’s, surrounded by the smell of stale air and alcohol. After the shower, he dried himself, aired the room and spent the next few minutes idly plucking at stray dirt on his couch while sprawled out across. When the clock struck 12, he bolted out to meet PJ as arranged at the University of London.

PJ was waiting at the entrance and smiled brightly when Dan came into view.

“Hey Dan!” He’s practically glowing as Dan nears, and waving frantically.

“Hi PJ! It’s great to see you again!”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s been too long. How are you, by the way?”

Dan’s smile freezes and he wavers. Only PJ knows what truly transpired back in Manchester, but even then not the full story.

 _Fuck fuck I’m taking too long to answer_. Dan bites his lip and kicks at an imaginary pebble. “Fine I guess.”

He can feel PJ’s questioning stare on him, but doesn’t dare look up. He knows PJ knows he’s lying, but honestly, he didn’t even know how he was doing.

_Probably ‘fine’ with a sprinkle of existential crisis._

PJ lets it drop anyway and Dans grateful for that. He begins his tour of the university, easily maneuvering his way through halls and classroom after classroom, pointing out different facilities and naming them, Dan following close behind and trying to make note.

PJ was almost reaching his office when he’s suddenly ambushed from the side and tackled into a hug. Dan flinches back instinctively.

“Peeeeej,” comes the lazy sing-song drawl. PJ coughs nervously and backs down slightly, but Dan notices that he still stays in the guy’s embrace, smiling widely.

“And company. Hi!” The man releases his death grip on PJ and steps forward to shake Dan’s hand. He has somewhat long, brown hair and brown eyes which sparkle. “Daniel, right?”

“Uh Dan will do. I’m sorry, but have we met before?” Behind the man, PJ blushes slightly and scratches his head.

“We haven’t. I’m Chris by the way, PJ’s colleague. He told me you were coming today, but I forgot. Sorry about earlier, heh.”

PJ steps forward and nudges Chris with his shoulder. “Chris here works in the drama department. He sometimes works with me for my film projects.”

Dan notices that they were standing too close to be just colleagues, hands barely brushing across each other's, but he doesn’t say a word.

They meet up with the principal - a chubby man with white hair combed back neatly and puffy red cheeks - who shakes Dan’s hand a little too firmly and smiles a little too much, but gave Dan a clap on the back and a position as a assistant piano instructor anyway.

He also starts work next week.

Dan exchanges a hug with PJ, mutters a few “good luck”s here and there, smiles and nods at Chris, and is once again off.

By the time he’s back in his apartment it’s evening and the sun’s beginning to set and he’s also starving but well, at least he has a job. That counts as something right?

He decides he needs a drink.

 

Phil’s acting strange today. Even more so than usual, not that he doesn’t already. Ruby notices that he comes in at half-past noon, a whole half an hour earlier, and even smiles at her. She hangs back the whole time doodling on napkins and playing stupid phone games and watches as Phil perks up whenever the stupid bell above the door jingles - she’d get Gabe to remove that - and the subtle droop of his shoulders when some random dude pops in.

It can’t be because of _that one guy_ , she thinks to herself, a bites her lip as Phil sags his shoulders again when another person enters.

She knows Phil hasn’t exactly had the perfect dating history, and it had been a long time since he actually properly had an attraction to someone. But this is borderline ridiculous. Phil hardly even knew the guy, not even his name, and he’s already hoarding some secret crush on him.

The poor guy needs to get some, she concludes, as Phil looks up for what could be the 1000th time at the sound of the bell.

She bites her pen and thinks of how to approach Phil later.

When the end of Phil’s shift draws closer and the next server is coming in to take his place, Ruby slides up to where Phil’s currently - she dare say, aggressively - sweeping the countertop.

“So… seemed pretty eager for work today, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Also particularly happy.”

“Mhm.”

“Kept looking at the door too.”

“Mhm.”

“Looking for someone?”

Phil sighs. “No.”

“Mhm.”

“Shut up Ruby.”

She laughs. “Aw, c’mon Phil! It’s just a guy. A reaaally cute one though. Hm, can't blame you."

She doesn’t miss the glare Phil shoots her.

She smiles and stares at Phil as he continues wiping over the already very clean countertop. It doesn’t go unnoticed and Phil stops to glare at her. “What?”

“You need to get some.”

“I- I don’t- I- shut up.”

“Aw Phil, it’ll be fun! I’ll follow you.”

“No.”

“Aww please? Don’t be a loser.”

“I’m not a loser.”

“You’re right, you’re a party pooper. You’re a- a short bus.”

“A what?”

“Just come with me! I promise it’ll be fun.”

“I’m pretty sure we have different definitions of fun.”

“Come.”

“No.”

An hour later, Phil finds himself in a stupid shirt and jeans with Ruby by his side. She’s wearing a short red dress, high heels, complete with a stupid smirk playing on her lips.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like- like you’re proud of yourself or something.”

She snorts but the smirk doesn’t fade. “C’mon, let’s go have some fun.”

Phil sighs.

 

Dan finds himself in some weird bar. He doesn’t even know how he got here, but all he knows is that he needs a drink, something strong. It was bustling with people and was filled with mindless chatter and loud, blasting music. Dan was sitting on a stool mindlessly swirling around the drink in his hand when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was face to face with a girl.

She was pretty with big blue eyes, bouncy long blonde curls that cascaded down and framed her face and long lashes that fluttered at him.

And she was also looking for some, if her hand on his chest and seductively twirling of her hair was anything to go by.

He was too polite to find it in himself to decline, even though she was completely barking up the wrong tree, and found himself being led by the hand to the dance floor.  
He could dance, he had before, but she was too short for him and his arms were awkwardly circling her waist and hers almost straining to wrap around his neck.

After a couple of songs he excused himself to the bathroom and hid in there for a while, cursing himself for not declining her earlier.

He’s been hiding in the empty toilet for a few minutes now when the door bursts open. Dan’s too late to pretend that he was going to leave and almost collides with the stranger. The stranger’s warm hands grabs hold of his arms to steady him and Dan finds himself looking straight into two bright blue eyes.

"Uh sorry- wait…” Dan’s eyes widen as the guy does too.

“Phil?”

 

Okay, now Phil’s at some crappy bar that Ruby dragged him into, not having the “time of his life” like Ruby promised. It’s too loud and too crowded and just not his cup of tea. It was for Ruby though, and she got dragged into the crowd by some tall dude with shaggy long hair, puppy dog eyes and a charming grin.

His bad mood also has _nothing_ to do with the fact that he just saw the cute brunet from the coffee shop on Friday with his arms around some blonde girl on the dance floor.

Trust him to crush on a guy who’s straight.

And gorgeous, and could have anyone in the world that he wanted, probably.

Phil downs the rest of his drink and walks across the room to get more, pushing past the mass of sweaty bodies. He holds up one finger to the bartender and turns around to try to find a mop of brown hair amidst the crowd.

He doesn’t.

 _He’s probably gone home with her_ , he thinks bitterly to himself, but then he sees the blonde from before with her lips attached to another guy’s and hope blooms in his chest.

What the hell? He tries to stomp on it. 

The bartender slides his drink over and Phil takes a gulp, eyes still roaming. He pauses for a while, chides himself for being ridiculous over one guy and slides off his chair to go into the bathroom.

What he doesn’t expect is to have a full on body collision with some random guy in the bathroom, and he certainly doesn’t expect his hands to clutch onto a leather jacket for support, and he certainly doesn’t expect a pair of brown eyes to flick up to meet his and widen.

“Uh sorry- wait… Phil?”

Warmth spreads across his chest and Phil doesn’t release his grip immediately. He remembers me. _He remembers me._ It turns into a mantra in his head as Phil stares on at the guy with shock written all over his face.

“Are you okay?” the guy asks, and Phil snaps out of his reverie and nods his head a little too harshly.

“Yeah I’m fine, uh, Istilldon’tknowyourname,” Phil rushes out.

The guy blushes adorably. “It’s Dan.”

“Oh.” Phil stupidly replies, and it suddenly occurs to him that he’s still holding onto Dan’s jacket. He releases his grip and his hand subconsciously trails down his arm before letting go. “That’s a nice name.”

“Thanks.” Dan mumbles back, and Phil’s hyper aware of how close they’re standing now. Dan’s mouth was hanging open slightly, and it was so so tempting. They were around the same height, Dan slightly taller, and if Phil leaned forward…

Dan suddenly diverted his eyes to Phil’s shirt, landing on his chest, breaking the intense eye contact.

“That’s a cool shirt.” He mumbles, eyes sliding over a pattern of bats.

“Yeah, it’s my favourite.” Phil replies, his voice coarse as if he hadn’t spoke for a long time.

They stay like that for a few more moments, the tension between them so thick you could probably cut it with a knife.

The last thing his mind processes is “fuck it”, before he closes the space between their lips and everything flies out of his mind.

Dan doesn’t know why he’s kissing Phil, or how his back is pressed against the wall all of a sudden or how his arms are automatically snaking round Phil’s neck to pull him in closer. His brain isn’t really registering anything at this point in time, and he doesn’t really care because it seems kinda nice. In fact, it’s pretty damn nice.

He doesn’t know how they fumbled out of the bathroom.

He doesn’t know how they found their way to Phil’s house, lips reattaching again once they were inside, arms around each other as they stumbled to his bedroom and onto his bed.

He doesn’t know of anything else but pure, unadulterated want.

He doesn’t know of anything but blue eyes and messy hair and tangled limbs and bliss.

He dozes off in Phil’s bed after it all and doesn’t think of anything - no worry or fear or disgust at himself - for the first time in a long time as he falls asleep in warm arms.

 

Dan wakes up to an unfamiliar but comfortable bed and an arm slung over him. It's warm and cozy, he thinks to himself. He blinks his eyes lazily and stifles a yawn, looking around. The person beside him shifts and lets out a soft grunt.

Holy shit.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Memories come rushing back in little fragments - the blonde girl, hiding in the bathroom, meeting Phil, then - and Dan tenses up as his mind finally connects the pieces together. Fuck fuck _fuck_. He’s in Phil’s apartment on his fucking bed completely naked with Phil’s arms around him and Phil nuzzling his neck.

Fuck.

He was such a fuck up.

Slowly but carefully, he held up Phil’s arm as he slid off the bed as silently as possible, and gingerly placed it back down.

Phil shifted and groaned.

 _Fuck_. Dan ducked down and tried to hide, waiting for Phil’s breathing slow down again, and willed himself to calm down. He stole a peek from behind the bed and relaxed when Phil was still sound asleep, although frowning at the lack of warmth in front of him.

Dan couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his cheeks.

 _Wait what? What the fuck Howell?_ _This is a one night stand, for god’s sake._ Dan widened his eyes and dug his nails into the skin of his palm, probably hard enough to draw blood. Fuck. He had plenty of one night stands before, but that was when he was a stupid teenager.

And even so never had he felt such an urge to do something completely stupid like wake up the other person with lazy kisses along the neck, or make pancakes for them, or even entertain the desire of waking up beside them like that everyday for the rest of his life.

And so he does the best thing he does.

He runs.

 

Phil wakes up bleary eyed and cold on his empty bed.

And also completely alone.

He winced as he sat up and looked around.

There was no note, no sort of indicator anywhere that Dan was there, his fast-fading memories only a fragment of the previous night.

Phil was left to wonder: Just how much of it was real?


	3. Dear God, are you there? It’s me, the dude who bailed on Friday.

Two whole weeks.

Fourteen days.

Three hundred and thirty six hours.

Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes.

Thats how long Dan had been avoiding Phil, and well, the coffeeshop.

He’d spent most of the time mulling about in his apartment thinking about his screw ups, feeding himself cereal pitifully and re-watching all the anime series in his possession.

When Monday rolled around and it was time to start work, Dan got into his best clothes, flagged down a cab, and was off to the University of London. He met up with PJ and The Principal He Never Really Liked (who had a name but Dan forgot. Good job, Daniel).

For the next few hours he busied himself learning the ropes and walking around the university familiarising himself with the place. PJ was mostly there for the start of the day but then at around ten he started texting and grinning like some lovesick idiot.

And then he ditched Dan to “meet up with someone. Don’t wait up!”

Overall, it could have been worse. The first week crawled by slowly and somewhat agonisingly, but he had to agree music was more of his passion than law ever could be. Dan was also pretty sure that the principal wasn’t very impressed with his awkward persona and all, but at least he did what he was instructed to do and got the job done.

And _then_ the coffee machine happened.

The coffee machine in the teachers lounge was old and rusty and looked like it had been there for decades. It was a week after he joined when it finally succumbed to old age and went off with a bang (literally). And so he, being the newbie, was asked _nicely_ to fetch coffee for the whole office, because apparently they too, need coffee like they need air.

Specifically at Thanks-A-Latte.

Of all _fucking_ cafes.

He should’ve known that fate was trying to mess with him the stupid coffee machine broke. Now he had to go to some stupid coffee shop, where some gorgeous guy he fucking slept with _and_ ditched _and_ probably fucking hates his guts, was working.

Dan prayed to his lucky stars that Phil isn’t working today, or is sick, or has quit his job and miraculously flown to Antarctica so that he never has to face the consequence of a coward’s mistake.

But of course, nothing ever happens the way he wants it to. Dan parks the car - courtesy of PJ, who would slaughter Dan if any drinks toppled over - and braces himself.

The golden bells at the door jingles when he steps inside and he catches a flash of mussed black hair and thinks, _oh fuck_.

He considers leaving immediately and going to some other coffee shop and maybe cook up an excuse about the shop being closed or running out of coffee beans or-

Phil chooses to turn around at that exact moment.

Dan feels like a deer caught in the headlights, body poised to run, to hide, to do anything but be under this man’s gaze. Phil looks shocked and he just freezes there for a second, like he’s seen a ghost but then in a blink of an eye he’s back to work. Dan takes in a deep breath, sucks it up, and casually walks to the counter.

It was one of the rare moments that Dan wishes there was some sort of gigantic queue or at least more people than a measly couple of hipsters hoarding seats and tapping away at their iPhones.

He also wishes he could disappear, but he does that too often.

 

Dan walks to the counter with his head held low and joins the small queue. He fiddles with the sheet of paper in his clammy hands to keep himself occupied, messy scrawls of each teachers’ order on top, but his mind keeps wandering on how he’s going to look at Phil in the eye and, you know, _talk._

His turn comes too soon and he finds himself standing at the front of the counter, hands tucked into pockets and nails digging into the skin of his palm.

He feels stupid and cowardly and shy, like this was the first time stepping into the shop, but it wasn’t and he’d give anything to turn back the time.

He can’t bring himself to look up and _see_ Phil, so instead he keeps his gaze low and tugs the now crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. He prays his hands don’t shake and smooths it down on the counter.

“Um, hi. I kinda have a crazy order.”

Phil’s hands slides over the counter and pulls the sheet of paper closer to himself. He lets out a sigh and Dan hears the shuffling of paper as Phil flips it over and reads through it. “Crazy order. Okay.”

If Phil’s angry or affected by that night, he certainly doesn’t show it. Dan dares a peek at Phil and finds his gaze on him, except that it isn’t angry or sad or anything of that sorts. He wasn’t sure if he was being paranoid or anything, but it looked empty.

It lacked the warmth, the kind he had on the first day Dan met him, or the crazy lust on Friday when Dan was straddling his hips and- _woah there Daniel._

His expression was blank and cold, and Dan wasn’t sure if he preferred it.

“You’ll have to wait a while. Ruby will make your order, so yeah, you can wait at the side until she calls out your name.”

And then Dan pays his money and finds himself brushed off to the side as the person behind him goes forward to take his place. Phil goes to the back to call Ruby and Dan shuffles over to a corner to wait for his order.

There’s suddenly a lump in his throat that Dan can’t swallow down. There’s this horrible sinking feeling in his stomach that gets worse and worse and worse by the minute and he doesn’t even know why. It’s not like Phil was outright rude or cold to him, he was treating him like a normal fucking customer so why was he getting so fucking worked up over this? In fact, Phil was being too nice, too goddamn nice for his own good, considering the asshole move Dan pulled on Friday, and too calm, like the whole situation hadn’t affected him at all, like that Friday night was nothing but just another fling, and Dan was _out of his fucking mind_ to think that someone as gorgeous as Phil could even spare a second glance towards him.

Dan stops himself before he starts a breakdown in the middle of the coffee shop and distracts himself by looking at the counter again.

Ruby’s out, and shoving Phil towards the drinks machine while muttering something to him and jerking her head in Dan’s direction. Phil’s scowling, but he walks to the machines anyway with Dan’s order in his hand and starts getting out the ingredients. Ruby just smirks and walks to the cashier to cheerily greet a customer, not before shooting Dan a wink.

What. The. Hell.

Dan nervously licks his lips and distracts himself for the time being by playing with the hem of his shirt - some ridiculously american looking dark blue shirt with white stars lining the collar. He briefly considered trying to make conversation, but then stomped on the idea as quickly as he could. He could barely look at Phil in the eyes, much less talk.

 

After a couple of phone games later Dan’s name gets called and he briskly walks to where Phil was standing, packing drinks into a coaster and scribbling names on it. He just stands there in silence, fingers still fiddling with the hem and he thinks, _fuck fuck fuck this is fucking awkward_ , and then Phil swoops into save the day with a boring conversation starter like:

“So who’s these for?”

Dan opens his mouth to answer, but his voice is horribly croaky so he blushes and clears his throat and thinks to himself once again, fuck fuck fuck, and somehow miraculously manages to squeak out, “Uh, for my colleagues.”

Phil nods in recognition, and Dan squeezes his hands into a fist. _Jesus Christ this is awkward_. Phil doesn’t make any attempt to continue the conversation, instead immersed in writing down all the names, and before Dan can stop himself he opens his big fat mouth and “I work at the University of London” tumbles out.

 _Really Dan?_ But Phil doesn’t seem to mind and replies, “Oh, that’s cool. I know a couple of regular customers from there.”

Dan bites his tongue, then continues. “Yeah, they actually voted for this place to get their coffee.”

Phil hums as he writes the final name on the cup, squeezes it onto the coaster and packs it into a paper bag. “That’s nice.”

Dan shifts his weight from foot to foot. Phil slides over several paper bags to Dan, who valiantly tries to balance all in his arms and nearly drops them. Phil walks away - Dan’s heart sinks a little because well that’s probably the last he’ll see of him - but then he goes over to his side and takes a few bags off his arms. “Here, I’ll walk you to your car.”

Dan’s heart is thumping erratically and he feels like it might just burst out of his ribcage any second, and honestly he wouldn’t even care if it actually happened at this point because he was a giant a-hole who doesn’t deserve Phil’s kindness. Phil walks in front and Dan’s grateful that he doesn’t get to see the stupid small smile on his face.

They unload the bags onto the front seat and Phil secures it with the seatbelt, before closing the car door, and Dan thinks, _it’s now or never_ , and before Phil gets a chance to say anything Dan blurts out, “About Friday.”

Phil freezes up, hand frozen on the door of the car. He stays like that for a second before he straightens himself and clears his throat.

“Don’t worry. Nothing happened. It’s okay,” Phil rushed out, and Dan just dies there and then, a million knives stabbing into him all at once and twisting and twisting and he can’t breathe and then Phil’s turning his back and walking away from him.

Dan’s whole body is numb and stiff and he finds that it’s suddenly cold too, so Dan blames it on the stupid stupid wind, and hurries to the drivers side of the car and slides in. It’s no less warm, and he pretends not to notice. His hand reaches out to the drinks beside him, almost mechanically, just to make sure it wouldn’t fall out, and drives back to the university.

Dan wonders if there’s any good liquor stores nearby.

 

Phil’s week has never sucked as much as it has now.

First, Ruby was being particularly annoying. She was late so Phil had to cover an extra twenty minutes for her, and by the time she came he was tired and really really wanted to lie down and pretend nothing existed (which he was doing for the past few days, minus the lying down, rather brilliantly). Then halfway through her shift she called Phil to replace her because “she needed to study”, and so he covered her stupid shift, because hey, extra money wouldn’t hurt. And that’s when _he_ came in.

 _He_ came in, glorious mussed brown hair, brown eyes widened with shock as if asking _why are you here_? and all and Phil snorts to himself at the thought - he could ask _him_ that instead.

He tried to evade any possible contact with _him,_ so when it came to making his crazy order Ruby was an idiot who was horribly handicapped - dangerous, even - in the company of coffee machines. She seemed more thrilled about “THAT HOT BOY FROM LIKE, A COUPLE WEEKS AGO?” at his twelve o’clock (fucking hell, he knows already), and he just ignores her before she does something stupid like flirt with _him._

He reached for the keys to the entrance, bag strap slung over his shoulder when the sound of the door being slammed open reverberated through the deserted shop. He almost jumped out of his skin. Phil frowned, eyebrows creasing in confusion. Closing time was far from over already, who the _hell_ would be here?

His fingers closed around a baseball bat conveniently placed on the shelf _(Why was it even there? Must be Gabriel._ ) before quietly trudging out of the kitchen. Better safe than sorry.

When he turned round and out of the kitchen, he definitely did not expect to see a muss of brown hair and long limbs stumbling around like some headless chicken.

“Dan?” 

Dan was knocking into tables and chairs, movements uncoordinated, hiccuping profusely and absolutely _reeking_ of alcohol. He was at some bar- or was it a shop? - and he basically inhaled the alcohol. The dude at the cashier had to kick him out for being too drunk but he couldn’t fight back because the world was being too hazy and confusing and goddamn annoying.

He somehow found his way to the coffee shop - luck? familiarity? - really it didn’t matter to him, and somewhere in his alcohol-induced state was a _need_ to see someone. Someone someone someone. He entered the shop and accidentally pushed the door too hard.

Oops.

He stumbled along, knocking into things and WHY WASN’T HIS ARMS AND LEGS LISTENING and he let out an indignant huff when someone entered the room. Dan looked up and squinted. Someone stood in front of him, nose scrunched up and eyes crinkling adorably.

_Ooh, I know that guy -whats his name? Phil. Phil somethingsomethingsomething. He’s hot. And holding some weird stick thingy. Weird._

Dan was mumbling and giggling hysterically in a short, high pitched tone, to himself, sparsely interrupted by hiccups. He held on to one of the cafe’s tables for support, leaning into it. _Be casual, Dan! Blend in._ And almost slipped his hand. _Good one, Daniel!_

“Dan, what in the world are you doing here? I’m about to lock up soon, could you please leave?”

Dan giggled, “No! I can’t- I’m stuck!” There was another high pitched giggle, accompanied by a hiccup. Then silence.

Phil put two and two together - Dan’s long drawls, slurs, stumbles and the stench of alcohol - his eyes widened. He loosened his grip on the baseball bat clutched within his hand, letting it swing down to his side. “..Dan? Are you _drunk?_ ”

Dan giggled and hiccuped again, nodding vigorously like his life depended on it. Then seemed sober up for a while, silent. For a couple moments neither said anything, then Phil sighed and turned to leave, but just then from behind him came a soft mutter.

“Phil, wait.”

Phil’s heart pounded.

“Sorry.”

Phil remains silent.

Dan just smiles lazily but even then Phil can see the pain thinly veiled under. “I’m such a fuck up, aren’t I? Always was. But here I am, being a happy drunk and all.”

Pause.

“I miss you.”

Pause.

“Funny, isn’t it? Hell, I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. You probably don’t even care! And you shouldn’t! I know I pulled a dick move which I shouldn’t have, I know that, believe me.”

Pause.

“I fucking hate myself for it. It’s all my fucking fault, isn’t it? I shatter everything I touch. I don’t even know why I’m even here, but then I asked myself, you kinda like him, don’t you?”

Phil’s breath catches in his throat but Dan doesn’t seem to notice.

“And then I told myself, yeah, I do really really like him. and I want to be serious and I don’t know and I can’t. I don’t think I can.

“I can’t Phil, god I’m such a fuck up and a loser and you don’t deserve someone like me I swear, you don’t deserve a fuck up who keeps messing up again and again and I’ve lost you once already but I am one big selfish bastard and I’m here to ask you to give me a chance. Just one more time, I swear, just one time to make this right. _Please_.”

By the time he was finished, Phil couldn’t decide who was more breathless. Dan wanted him? He stood there, dazed for a second before the sound of knees hitting the ground jolted him out of his reverie. Dan lost his grip on the table and fell to the ground and his hands were digging into his thighs for support but why did he still feel like he was falling?

He didn’t know what to do. He was absolutely lost and hopeless and alone and it seemed like all he could do was to cry and cry and _fucking cry_. Crying doesn’t even fucking help him in anyway, it doesn’t fix any mistakes or rewind the past or take away the fucking regret, so why couldn’t he just fucking get it togethe-

Suddenly, a pair of warm hands was gripping his shoulders, and when Dan looked up, in his line of vision was a face etched with innocence and worry and bright azure eyes he was pretty sure he could fucking start swimming in.

“Hey, hey it’s fine, Dan, it’s fine. I’ve got you.” Phil was rubbing slow circles into his back and Dan instinctively leaned into the touch. He didn’t deserve any of this, anything from Phil, but his head was too muddy to fight back.

“You’re drunk and upset now, and I don’t know if you’re making the right decisions or even meaning what you say. C’mon, lets get you home.”

Dan managed to choke out a cynical laugh.

“Don’t know why you care.”

Phil bit his lip. Why _did_ he care anyway? It wasn’t like Dan was his responsibility, and he wasn’t obliged to take care of him or anything. Guilt bloomed in his gut - friend or foe or really hot one-night stand that ditched him and consequently broke his heart, he had to help.

Dan clutched his stomach and a dazed look overcame his features and Phil’s grip tightened. Dan barely mutters out a “I think I’m gonna be sick” before the bitter bile rising in his throat rushed out of his mouth.

And right onto Phil’s shoes.

There was a silence after that, before Dan seemed to sober up and reality sunk it and he started going, “Oh my god. Sorry sorry sorry Phil, holy shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, Phil, I’m sorry I’ll clean this up, sorry” over and over like a broken cassette tape stuck on repeat.

Then another wave of nausea washed over him and his words got caught in his throat. Dan heaved and was about to puke again when he slapped a hand over his mouth. “Good. I’m good.”

Phil just sighed, pulled of his shoes and helped Dan up onto a chair. “It’s fine, there’s probably an extra pair here somewhere. Stay here, I’ll get you some water.”

“I won’t go,” came a faint murmur behind him, and if it wasn’t dead quiet he wouldn’t have heard it.

But he heard it, and hope fluttered in his chest.

 

By the time Phil cleaned out the puke from his shoes and the floor, Dan was passed out on the chair, head lolling to the side.

Phil shook his shoulder gently. “Dan?” No reply. He shook it a little harder, and spoke a little louder. “Dan?” Still no reply.

“C’mon Dan, you have to get up. I’ve got to take you back home.” Below him, Dan shifted and let out a low groan.

Phil sighed and hooked his arms underneath Dan’s and lifted him up with a grunt. _Guess Dan’s just going home with me then._

_Again._

Dan was pretty heavy, being tall and all, and Phil thanked his lucky stars that the streets were dark and deserted. He quickly flags down a cab - thank god for small cities - and practically dragged Dan by the arms. Phil was sure that if someone saw them they would call the police because THERE’S A FUCKING PSYCHO DRAGGING HIS NEXT VICTIM INTO A TAXI.

Getting Dan into the car was tricky - he trashed about and giggled a lot but in the end Phil grabbed his legs and shoved him in. Phil’s apartment wasn’t far from the shop, and apart from the soft music playing on some unfamiliar radio and occasional worried glances from the taxi driver in the rear-view mirror the car ride was filled with awkward gaps of silence and the occasional hiccup from Dan, and then they were back before Dan could do something stupid again like puke on his shoes or apologize then puke on his shoes.

Dan had sobered up somewhat as Phil gave him some of his clothes and a spare toothbrush before directing him to the toilet. He went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and when he returned Dan was sitting on the couch, changed out of his clothes and absent-mindedly tracing swirls on the material. He was cleaned up a little, no longer reeking of whatever he had chugged down previously. Dan looked up sheepishly at Phil, hand going up to scratch the back of his head absentmindedly.

“Sorry about your shoes,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s fine.”

There’s an awkward pause, before they both pipe up at the same time.

“You should stay.”

“I should get going.”

Phil squeezes his nails into the palm of his hand and dares a sneak at Dan, who’s biting his lip nervously and staring at the floor like it’s the only interesting thing in the house.

“You could go back but I mean, it’s late.”

“Mhm.”

“And the streets are dark.”

“Mhm.”

“And unsafe.”

“Mhm.”

“So… bed?”

 

Half an hour later Dan finds himself in bed with Phil about a metre away from him, back facing him, shoulders rising and falling steadily. He blames it on the stupid tiny couch which Phil states, “is too brutal for anyone to sleep on”, and he ended up bickering with Phil over who gets to sleep where but finally Phil grumbled out a “don’t be silly Dan, get in the bed already, there’s more than enough space” before collapsing on it and he wouldn’t stop whining until Dan got in too.

It’s too soon, he thinks, too soon and the memories are still too fresh and just when he’s about to find some excuse to get out and go to the couch Phil flips over and glares at him through heavily lidded eyelids.

“Stop thinking,” he growls and shoves a pillow into Dan’s face.

Dan tries to find some witty comeback, but doesn’t manage to and before he knows it he finds himself falling asleep between one breath and the next.

 


	4. I need some love advice from Dr Phil

“Dan?”

Phil whispered out as a familiar warmth spread out across his back, arms encircling his waist, tugging him in deeper into the little cocoon of warmth.

“D-” Phil managed to squeak out before coming to the realisation that Dan may be cherishing in his best sleeping in a while. So instead of pushing the new source of warmth away, he shifted such that he was facing Dan more properly now, and could see the little flutter in his eyelashes at his movement, and the small part of his lips.

Phil tries to ignore his rapidly beating heart.  _He won’t remember or wake up to this, will he?_

Beside him Dan shifts and lets out a muffled groan into the pillow. Phil tenses up for a minute, worried that Dan will wake up and find Phil’s arms around him and disappear again, but he doesn’t, so Phil relaxes and shuts his eyes and lets himself be lulled back to sleep.

 

_Beige._

_Why is there beige everywhere?_

Blearily, Dan rolled onto his back, tangled up in a mess amongst the sheets.

Glancing over to the opposite side of the bed, photo frames of a familiar azure-eyed boy dressed in a navy outfit complimented other frames of Phil’s family and friends.

_Wait a second, Phil?_

Dan shoots up from the bed and attempts to swing his legs off the bed. That’s when his head starting pounding intensely, as if something was trying to escape from his head, banging at the edges of his consciousness constantly. Groaning loudly, Dan curled up in himself upon the sheets and cradled his head.

The door to the plain room creaked open, with the smell of freshly fried eggs and bacon wafted in along with the pale-skinned man.

“Dan?”

The deep voice could’ve never been a better start - although not helpful at all - to a hangover.

“You’re awake? Um, I brought you a cup of water and an aspirin. I’ll leave it here. If you want to, you can join me in the kitchen when you’re ready. I already made breakfast.. if you want to?”

Dan groaned and let out a long string of jumbled up words he hoped sounded more like “thank you i’ll join you later”.

“So... I'll leave you to it.”

Phil gawkily rambled across the room, shuffling towards the nightstand and out the door, leaving Dan in a haze.

Grousing about his plight under his breath, Dan stood up shakily, a hand grasping the wall for stability and another clutching at his head. His vision was currently still hazy, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than a bowl to puke into. (At least it’s not shoes this time)

 

Stumbling out the bedroom door, Dan drifted towards the appetizing smell of homemade breakfast, which as sad as it may sound, indeed a rare occurrence for himself. Taking in the sight of ‘actual’ food, he couldn’t control the something smile that bloomed.

But seeing Phil had reality came crashing back to him, albeit in bits and pieces - too much to drink and stupid decisions - and his smile wavered. Dropping himself on the chair, he ducked his head, fumbling his hands as if he realised suddenly how interesting his palms were.

“Good morning,” said Phil, and Dan just blushed and returned a quiet one of his one.

Phil slid a plate over to Dan and some utensils, sits across the table and starts eating.

Dan picks up the fork and jams it into the eggs. Awkward awkward awkward awkward he chants in his mind.

“So…” they both begin at the same time, so Phil clears his throat and says “you first.”

“Um… what exactly transpired last night? Sorry, I’m a bit out of the loop.”

Dan dares a glance up at Phil, who has turned a light shade of pink. “You kind of crashed into Thanks-A-Latte last night and also barfed on my shoes so I brought you home.”

Oh.

_Oh._

_So that’s what happened._

_Wait did I? Fuck-_

“Crap, sorry, Phil. I didn’t say anything did I? Fuck, sorry, I say bullshit when I’m drunk. Didn’t need to mind me.”

“Oh, no, no, I didn’t catch anything, it’s alright.”

Phil caught a glimpse of the wariness in Dan’s eyes, and considered telling him the truth. He didn’t want Dan to feel guilty, but on the contrary, he wanted him to.

_You can’t just be a dick and leave someone right after that, and expect a second chance!_

_But then again, I do want to give him a second chance - this could blossom into something greater, couldn’t it?_

Across the table, Dan coughed and broke his train of thoughts.

"So, uh, Phil, what do you do? In your career, I mean."

Phil looked slightly bewildered at Dan’s question, cocking his head a little.

"..I work at the coffeeshop?"

_Jesus fuck, Dan. Smooth. What are you doing?_

Phil mulls over for slightly longer before he pipes up again. "Oh, and I write too, in my own time. Sometimes. Ish. Sort of."

“You can write? That’s actually pretty cool. What kind of books do you write?”

“Uh, fiction and fantasy.”

“Come to think of it, why haven’t I seen your books?”

Phil shrugged. “My books aren’t really that well known, I guess.”

Dan just nodded, mind drifting off, and they slowly lulled into a comfortable silence.

 

After breakfast, Dan helped with the dishes and sometime later realised with a gasp that he was still wearing Phil’s clothes and made a promise to return the clothes, and Phil just smiles and says “okay.”

Awkwardly shuffling to the door and picking up his coat on the way, Dan could feel little pricks on his neck. He wishes for a little miracle, after all he has one more hour till work and he’d much rather spend it with Phil talking about mindless topics, but that’d be pushing the boundaries.

He finds himself a situation that seemed a little familiar - standing outside the door across Phil saying their goodbyes. Except that he hasn’t. Neither has Phil.

It feels like they're both waiting for one another to do something, to make the first move and ask for the other’s number or something but then again it’s all too soon and neither seems too keen on getting their hearts stomped on again so-

“…Bye, Dan.”

Dan’s breath catches in his throat and even as he can feel his heart plummeting he smiles anyway, and gives a little wave, before stepping back and away.

A few steps later, the door shuts with a soft click.

Dan lets out a shaky breath, dragging fingers down the side of his face. What was he expecting?

The truth was that he wasn’t allowed to have Phil in any capacity, and he didn’t deserve Phil, and he was foolish and needy and irrational to even think that he’d stand a chance.

_You should have done something._

Dan leans against the cool outer wall of the apartment and lets out a long breath, feeling tension slowly seep out of his body. He shoves his hands into his pockets and makes a mental note to give Phil back his clothes quick, get it over and done with.

His hand brushes against a wrinkled slip of paper.

He unearths it and reads the hasty pencil scrawl across it. A wide grin blooms across his face as his eyes sweeps over the message, once, then again and again and again and his cheeks hurt from smiling but he doesn’t register the pain and there’s not a single fibre in his body that seems to give a bloody crap about it.

_Hi Dan, call me?_

_07050897727 - Phil xx_

He couldn’t explain his unwavering smile and good mood to PJ after.


	5. Hard to get?

Philip Michael Lester, Ruby decided, was one hell of a weirdo.

He’d been having these mood swings, going from happy to grumpy to well, happy she supposed, and it was probably caused by  _someone_ , judging by the unearthly amount of times Phil had been checking his phone in the past hour of his shift.

52 times to be exact, she noted.

Majority of the time his phone didn’t buzz off, but when it did he was quick to jump on it.

Ruby swears that Phil’s phone has some mystical powers, unleashing unhealthy amounts of ecstasy whenever it’s unlocked - maybe Phil’s on drugs! - or maybe he’s under some form of happiness curse or maybe he superglued his smile on today because today Phil is unusually fucking happy and that’s really, really weird because all he’d done the past few weeks was sulk and complain and grumble like a 5 year old who’s just been barred from candy from his whole life.

And right now said 5 year old looks like he’s just been granted the whole fucking Willy Wonka candy factory to himself, and is grinning brightly like serving mundane coffee to regular customers is the best thing that’s happened to him since Ruby got him a lion onesie for Christmas.

When closing time draws near and the shop’s empty save for some milling customers, Phil skips - yes,  _skips_  - to the back room, greets Ruby with the cheeriest (and very unnerving) smile and a jovial “HEEYY RUBSTER”.

Ruby just glares at him. “Shut up.”

Phil just laughs, a full throaty laugh like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all day and snatches a rag up, humming to himself as he wipes down the counters.

Ruby leans against the counter. “What’s gotten the stick out of your ass? Some new boy you’re texting?”

Phil pretends he didn’t hear that last part and smiles at her. “I’m just happy Ruby!”

“Ha ha,” she snorts, but before she can say anything Phil’s phone buzzes and he immediately shoots his hand down his pocket to retrieve it. Ruby watches as his face lights up and he starts texting back, hands moving over the keyboard in a blur and not even bothering to hide the humongous smile on his face.

Okay okay. Enough with the fooling around.

Ruby reaches over and snags the phone out of Phil’s hand, ignoring his abrupt cry of protest and reads the name of the recipient.

 **DAN XX <3**, it reads.

Phil yelps and snatches his phone back, but it’s too late. The flip in Ruby’s brain switches and realisation sinks in.

“ _DAN_?” she practically screams.

“Ruby!” harshed Phil as he drags her into the back and closes the door, but the red at the tip of his ears is unmistakable.

She starts laughing. And crying. Both actually. The whole situation just seems absurd - so Phil’s getting all trippy over that hot brunet from what, more than a month ago? Phil just huffs and glares at her. “Are you done?”

“Oh Phil, that’s priceless.”

Phil’s face turns redder if that’s even possible. “It’s not.”

“Aw, c’mon. Have you been sending little love notes? Waxing poetry? Or wait, are they dirty ones? Is the dude a good kisser? Hey I bet he has his way with words eh? Haven’t dropped the L-bomb yet have you? Hey- wait, Phil! I’m not done!”

Phil blatantly ignores her, huffing and makes his way back out to wipe down the counter, not before Ruby barely catches a glimpse of a small smile blooming across his face.

Ruby notes that he never actually denied anything she said.

She just smirks and shakes her head.

 

The buzz of his phone jolts him from his daydream.

It buzzes again.

Fumbling around to fish out his phone from his pocket, Phil grins as a familiar sentence flashed across his screen.

**DAN XX <3 is calling…**

Phil scans his surroundings, making sure no one could eavesdrop on him before eagerly pressing the ‘pick-up’ button.

“Phil,” a whiny tone starts. “PJ keeps teasing me about our thing! I can’t stop him and it bothers me. A lot. I need to get out. Actually, send help please.”

Hearing Dan’s voice after a few hurried days of serving cups of coffee to fellow students studying for their GCSEs was like a douse of cold water on a hot summer day - relieving, to say the least. Phil let out a long breath he didn't know he had been holding in all that while, and huffs a gentle laugh into the phone. “Well, sorry Dan, guess you’re just on your own then.”

Dan lets out a long groan and Phil slaps a hand over his mouth to keep his laugh in.

“My god, this is so embarrassing,” complained Dan, and Phil can hear him shifting around on the other end. “Wait, I need to grab the score sheet…”

“Hey Dan?” Phil suddenly says.

“Yeah?”

“Do you, you know, I mean if you want to, no obligation though, heh, you know, want to, uh, maybe-”

Dan cuts him off. “Phil Lester, are you asking me on a date?”

Phil blushes and nods, and then realises Dan can’t see him. “Yes, I am.”

Dan laughs and Phil blushes harder. “Shut up, Dan.”

The laughter dies down and the phone’s quiet for a few moments, before Dan says rather wistfully, “I like the amusement park.”

“Way to drop hints, Dan,” Phil deadpans.

Dan lets out an “ugh” at that and Phil smiles. “So I’ll pick you up at seven, your house, on Thursday?”

Dan hums in agreement, and they spend the rest of the time chatting idly about stupid things until Ruby bangs on the door for Phil.

His week just got better.

 

Time is an agonizing long crawl, but Thursday comes anyway and Phil shows up at the door 5 minutes earlier than usual to find Dan already dressed and waiting.

Dan’s decked in a ridiculous shirt which is oddly fitting to his personality - well it’s not like Phil isn’t wearing a shirt covered in bats - and Phil’s stomach flutter and do somersaults, something he hasn’t felt since the first time he lay his eyes on Dan.

Dan buries himself in Phil’s warm chest and Phil wraps his arms around him. Dan pulls away slightly - not enough to be completely out of his embrace - and blurts, “Can we go on the rollercoasters?”

Phil chuckles. “Fine, but we have to go for the arcade games too.”

Dan’s eyes light up, but Phil stops him before he can do or say anything. “Don’t forget the ferris wheel.”

Dan readily agrees.

 

If there’s anything that Phil has learnt from tonight, it’s that Dan is terrible at games, and “Shut up Phil, I’m not a sore loser, now get your ass back here 'cuz I’m going to kick it at hoops.”

For the first few rounds Phil won Dan steadily, but when it was apparent that Dan wasn’t going anywhere until victory was his, Phil started ‘screwing up’ and letting Dan win by a measly amount. Still, a victory’s a victory and Phil had to admit that the childish glee on Dan’s face was much more rewarding than the satisfaction of winning.

Needless to say, Dan wins every game after than.

 _Almost_  every game.

 

Walking out of the carnival with flushed cheeks from laughing too hard and hand in hand, Phil stops abruptly. Dan stops too, confused, before he feels a hand cupping the back of his neck gently pulling him in and a warm pair of lips against his.

Oh.

_Oh._

Perhaps he’d been giving off the wrong signals all night - standing too close to Phil, swaying closer to him when they were walking such that their shoulders bumped a little, staring a little too long at him, cuddling a little too much - but this, this was-

Too soon.

_Too soon._

His minds goes into overdrive and he can feel himself the panic swelling in his chest; Phil must feel it too because he has pulled back abruptly and is-

_No no no, this is too soon. I can’t do this, I can’t do this._

Dan vaguely registers the pair of warm hands sliding up and down the side of his arms, and it does little to suppress the rising panic in him.

“Dan. Dan.” Phil says firmly, and Dan’s vision focuses - when had it gone blur? - and he looks up into a pair of blue eyes and sees the poorly concealed worry in it.

He was overreacting.

 

Phil felt Dan tense up under his arms the moment he leaned in to give him a peck on the cheeks, and he quickly jerks away. Dan has frozen up, and he looked like he was having a panic attack so Phil’s hands instinctively goes up to comfort him, but it doesn’t look like it’s working.

Dan pushes Phil away, rough and hard enough to send him back a few steps, and there is an inevitable pang in his chest but that’s okay, it’s understandable, he crossed an unspoken barrier and he should’ve asked first, he shouldn’t have tried anything-

Dan mutters something about “going to the toilet” and literally darts off. Phil contemplates chasing him, but stops himself.

 

Dan slams the door to his apartment shut, his trembling hands dropping his keys on to the door. His back pressed against the door and slid and curled up on his haunches, pillowing his head in the warmth of his arms and let the tears fall.

He was scared. His mind was whirling, his whole body was shuddering and he can’t see and he can’t move he-

The sudden shrill tone of his phone startles him, and he switches it to silent mode and lets it fall onto the floor beside him in one careless movement.

It’s a few minutes before he regains his composure. With quivering hands and tears clouding over his eyes, he picked up his phone, almost dropping it in the process.

He presses the call button.

“Hey Dan, just to remind you tha-”

The voice pauses mid-sentence. “Dan? Are you alright?”

Wiping his tear streaked cheeks, he responded.

“I’m alright, I-”

Dan took in a sharp breath, unable to keep his composure to articulate properly.

“Dan, you know you can tell me anything, I wouldn’t mind.”

Keeping his mouth silent, Dan stared off into the distance. He could trust PJ, couldn’t he? They have been friends since they were both in diapers.

Yeah, he can.

He took in a deep breath and collects his thoughts.

Here goes nothing.

“I pushed Phil away, PJ.”

The other end of the phone is silent for a while; obviously PJ doesn’t really get it, so Dan sighs and continues. “Then I kinda ran away.”

“Don’t mind me for asking, but why? You are happy, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Dan replies, a little too quickly, he notes. “It was just some… past issues. At least that’s what I’d call it.”

PJ remains silent. “I guess that’s why I moved here, to London I mean. To get away.”

Dan takes in a shaky breath, and he closes his eyes-

-and now he’s 19, and madly in love with a guy who everyone seems to agree is out of his league, but he doesn’t care and all that matters is that he’s in love and feeling like the luckiest person on earth.

Then the memory shifts  _that_  way, to broken beer bottles and yelling and screaming and crying, and even now after 4 years he swears he can feel the sharp edge of the broken glass bottle slice through his skin, and fists raining punches on his face and arms and everywhere-

-Dan opens his eyes. He's twenty four and alone in his apartment with fresh tear tracks and a bruised heart. He continues.

“I had a past relationship and it was, uh, kind of bad, I guess. I thought nothing at first, why would I anyway, he treated me so well and I felt so loved and so the first time he hit me-”

Dan stops and tries to hold back the barrage of tears. “He hit me, and I didn’t do anything, I just let him hit me. I always believed it was my fault, that the whole thing was my fault, because it was always my fault, and anyway after the whole incident he’d hug me and whisper to me that he was sorry and he never meant it and again, I believed him. I always believed him.

“I know that I could’ve done something about it but I never did. I guessed my love for him overclouded my every sense.”

Dan laughs softly at that even though it wasn’t the slightest bit funny, and PJ just makes a small hum. “It went too far anyway, and he was sentenced to jail for assault and so it’s over already but-”

Kneading his eyes and temple, he rambled on.

“Phil kissed me earlier and it- I kinda got a flashback and freaked out and um, kinda pushed him away. I don’t know I obviously I regret that and I bet he hates me right now so I don’t know what to do so, um.”

By the time he’s done, tears are flowing freely and he can’t stop them, so he just tilts his head up and takes in deep breaths, like it’s going to help.

At the other end of the line, PJ is quiet. Then he speaks up.

“Dan, you know you shouldn’t feel regretful for what you did.”

Dan gives a soft snort, and PJ ignores it. “I’m serious Dan, if you weren’t ready don’t push yourself.”

Dan chokes back a sob. “But what do I do now? Fuck, he’s probably worried about me right now! I didn’t even tell him anything I just left.”

PJ interrupts him mid-sentence. “Dan, Phil sounds like a great guy, from what you told me about him. He probably understands what happened. Just… take a couple days of break and think about it, okay?”

Despite everything that had concurred that night, Dan still finds himself smiling into the phone. “Thanks PJ.”

“No problem.”

Later on in the night after Dan has washed up and changed, he flops onto his bed and pulls the cover up to his chin and closes his eyes.

One more thing.

He looks at his bed stand and the phone sitting idly on it, before grabbing it. Dan keys in “sorry about 2nite, something happened. ttyl” He stares at it for a moment, before deleting the “ttyl”, and presses ‘send’ before he can mull over it any longer, and tosses his phone on the bedstand.

He shuts his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

 

Phil’s phone buzzes, and his hand instinctively shoots out to grab it.

**1 message from Dan XX <3**

He unlocks his phone with trepidation, and his eyes scan through the message. A million things rushes through his mind as he reads and rereads it again and again, and there’s a rush of relief but also confusion, but tonight has been a long night and so he sends a “hope you’re okay” and drifts off to sleep.

 

One week dragged to two, and two weeks became three.

Three to four, four to five.

That’s how long since Dan texted Phil.

Avoiding his problems, avoiding his guilt. Moping around the place with a burning guilt in his guts, weighing him down wherever he went, especially when he thought of the dreamy blue-eyed man.

Maybe it was the weather, or that there was a discount at the bubble tea shop, because Dan decided to muster up his courage, and face the glaring problem.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Dan hesitantly tugged at his hair, freshly straightened from his natural curls.

_Hair done- right. Clothes? Decent enough, probably. Phone, check. A slightly prepared speech? Not really._

Dan gives a hesitant smile to his reflection in the mirror, thinks “fuck it”, and leaves the house.

 

About half an hour later at Phil’s doorstep, he finds himself pacing nervously outside, raised his knuckles to the door, but never finding it in himself to just make the fucking knock.

_What would he think of me? Fuck, I shouldn’t have even thought of this. Fuck this. I’m going back._

When he turns back to aim for the elevator, the sound of a door’s lock clicking open makes his eyes widen and his body freezes in its track.

“Dan?”

He squeezes his eyes, his fist clenching and unclenching, preparing himself for the dreadful confrontation.

Here goes nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he turned around and finds himself face to face with the guy he ditched on Thursday because he couldn’t control his emotions.

Phil takes in a deep breath, his eyes wide and full of shock and pleasant surprise and  _hope_.

“Dan,” he says a little breathlessly, like he can’t believe that Dan’s actually standing in front of him.

“Uh hi, may I come in?”

With hesitation, Phil nudges the door open, and Dan lightly trudges in. The door clicks shut behind him and Dan feels a million emotions rushing through his veins. Including feeling out of place.

It suddenly strikes him that,  _shit_ , it’s only Phil and him now, alone in his apartment. “You can take a seat, Dan.”

Dan stiffly shuffles over to the sofa, and opts for the far right side of the sofa, with Phil on the opposing. He shifts his body towards Phil and wrings his hands nervously. Taking in a deep breath, he feels his speech - all arranged and worded prim and proper - already crumbling and slipping out of his mind, but yet he feels oddly ready. He’ll give it a shot.

“I’m sorry, Phil,” he begins. Phil opens his mouth too, to apologize, but Dan quickly continues. “The kiss… it brings back memories, you know? Unwanted memories. And I guess, I guess I just wasn’t ready to face them.”

The story spills out from there. When he's done, Phil looks shock, but there's no anger or disgust or anything etched on his face that Dan was expecting. Relief washes over him.

“I’ve spent the weeks thinking, whether I was ready, whether I was ever going to be ready, or maybe I was too banged up from it to move on. But then I realised, that you are nothing like that. I know you won’t hurt me the way he hurt me, and I shouldn’t have doubted that for any second.”

Interrupted by a familiar warmth engulfing him, Dan visibly relaxes in Phil’s arms.

A peck is pressed against his forehead, and Dan closes his eyes to stop the tears from coming. When Phil speaks, Dan can feel every single letter falling onto his skin.

“Dan, you have to tell me when you feel uncomfortable. You  _have_ to tell me, alright? We’ll take it slow, but you have to tell me if you ever feel uncomfortable with _anything_.”

Dan smiles against his chest, and snuggles into the warmth. “Okay.”

They stay like that for a while longer.

 

A few weeks later, they finally kiss.

It’s short and chaste and late after a date at the movies, and they’re both tired and walking home together, close enough such that their shoulders bump a little with every couple of steps, and when they reach Dan’s house he grabs onto Phils shoulders and presses his lips to his, catching him off guard.

Nevertheless, it leaves Phil wide-eyed and breathless.


	6. An Old Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter! after reading this epilogue, please comment (if you have the time) with either constructive criticism, or just your opinion on this fic! it's appreciated :)

Progress with Dan is slow, much slower than all of his past relationships but Phil doesn’t find it in himself to care, because Dan’s needs come first.

It’s mid November which means autumn, and that means sweater weather and nice hot drinks.

Phil’s typing up his new book, eyes trained on the computer screen and not once wavering from it. Behind him, Dan walks up and wraps his arms around his chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck.

“Whatcha writing?” Dan murmurs.

“My new book,” Phil replies, and takes off his glasses to wipe down. “It’s going pretty well actually. I had a writer’s block a couple months back but I got a jolt of inspiration and now it’s kinda smooth sailing.”

“That’s good,” says Dan, and bends down to try to peer at the screen better. “Can I read it?”

Phil clears his throat and smooths his hands on his pants. “Not yet. I still have to finish it and get it edited and go through all that publishing stuff.”

“Can I just read a little snippet?”

“‘fraid not Dan. You could read the final one if you like.”

A lump forms in Dan’s throat and he swallows it down after a few tries. “Oh.”

Disappointment swells in him - was he not special enough to even just get one little snippet?

Phil just gives out a little laugh-sigh and presses his lips to Dan’s for a chaste kiss, and in an instant those thoughts fly out of his head as he melts into the kiss.

“The wait’ll be worthwhile, trust me,” murmured Phil into the kiss, and Dan smiles against his lips and finds himself believing him wholeheartedly, pressing deeper into the kiss in response.

Needless to say Phil abandons his writing for the next few hours.

 

Christmas comes fairly quickly, and Dan spends most of his time rushing around getting Phil’s house prim and proper for their small Christmas celebration with PJ and “just a colleague Dan, there isn’t anything going on between us I swear”.

Dan doesn’t believe him, of course, and he would have pried further if not for the bloody long list of Christmas decorations he had to tend to. He manages to complete it on time anyway, and spends the rest of Christmas Eve snuggling with Phil and watching all the Christmas movies on Netflix.

Christmas rolls around and the whole house is adorned with cheesy christmas decorations and a ridiculous christmas tree they had too much fun setting up. The blue, red and green lights flicker periodically, illuminating the house with it’s colorful glow. They eat turkeys - courtesy of supermarkets since none of them can truly cook - and too many mince pies and drink eggnog and chat over dinner.

They wear stupid sweaters - Dan’s has an African santa and Chris’ obscene one consists of two reindeers doing the do - and Dan laughs over it until he’s doubled over and his cheeks are practically red splotches. He decides he likes Chris, and by the subtle and shy looks they cast each other over dinner it’s certain that Chris and PJ like each other too. A lot. (Dan’s about a hundred percent certain they are holding hands under the table.)

The topic of discussion soon drifts over to books, and Dan proudly announces that Phil is an author. Phil blushes and looks down at his plate, but PJ is genuinely interested.

“Have you written any books?” he asks.

“Well,” Phil begins, and fumbles with his choice of words. “I am an aspiring writer, I guess. I’ve just finished writing a book, but I’ve yet to find a publisher.”

PJ’s eyes widen at that prospect. “That’s brilliant! I know a friend who’s in publishing and he’s looking for authors. I could help convey your book to him if you don’t mind?”

Phil smiles widely, flashing his teeth. It’s like he’d hit jackpot. “That’d be perfect! Thank you PJ!”

PJ just shrugs and goes, “it’s no big deal”, but it is to Phil. Dan has seen him for hours on end on the phone trying to contact willing publishers but coming up with nothing. This opportunity was nothing short of perfect.

Phil looks like he’s on the verge of jumping off his chair and running over to PJ to choke him in a tight embrace. Dan smiles inwardly at the sight and reaches under the table to squeeze Phil’s hand.

Phil squeezes back.

After dinner they play Twister and Dan complains loudly that Twister is a horrible game but doesn’t quit because the number of times Phil’s butt has gotten right into his face is uncountable and like hell he’s going to complain about  _that_.

Later on in the night when there’s only the two of them left in the apartment they sit on the couch and watch  _Nightmare before Christmas_  while snuggling under the blanket, their legs tangled up and drinking remains of eggnog. Dan tucks his head under Phil’s and wraps his arms around his waist to tug him in. Phil burrows closer.

He falls asleep unwittingly between one breath and the next.

 

It’s New Year.

Fireworks light up the sky with gorgeous hues of red and yellow and orange and blue, and Phil leans over and pulls Dan in for a kiss just as the ball on the television screen drops, and people cheer from the apartment next to theirs.

They are both shit-faced and drunk, but the moment is still relished all the same.

“I love you,” Phil says against Dan’s lips.

It’s the first time he’s said it.

Dan laughs, a mixture of relief and excitement and happiness coursing through him, and in response he presses his forehead against Phil harder and smash their lips together once again.

It all seems to match up, like a missing puzzle piece slotting in place, and Dan wonders why he never said it earlier. Love, he understands now, he understands now that he loves Phil with every single living cell in his body and he realizes that now, and he’s so happy and content and complete that he wants to climb up on the rooftop and shout at the top of his lungs that he’s in love but he doesn’t.

So instead, he just pulls Phil closer, and pulls slightly away from their heated kiss and murmurs against his lips.

“I love you too.”

The sparkle in Phil’s eyes is unmistakably, nothing short of pure happiness.

 

_5 months later_

Phil Lesters’ best-selling book is published in hardback format on May 18th. The short dedication on the front page is typed written in Arial, font size 11. It simply reads:

Dear Dan, I never knew love would feel like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angie: writing this was a fucking pain in the ass and also tiring and hella fun and now i am tired and i really want to eat a sandwich and take a nap.
> 
> tumblr url: bluntlittleinstrument.co.vu
> 
> Kaz: this was super fun to write!!! but not fun to stress and fuss over oops  
> thank you for reading and I love u if you completed this fic and liked it!! :D
> 
> tumblr url: castronomy.co.vu
> 
> artist: Alex
> 
> tumblr url: philslesters.tumblr.com
> 
> beta: Emmylou
> 
> tumblr url: llttlecomets.tumblr.com
> 
> :)


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